Craptacular

Looks like another whiny entry for my blog. I promise to have an upbeat one (or at the very least simply a book review) soon to make up for this "woe is me."

I had hoped that running would be the thing I could use to help me cope with stress, instead of comfort eating my way to a ridiculous weight but that's not working, at least not right now. Mac and cheese, on the other hand, felt good initially and now feels like a brick in my stressed out, nauseated gut.

What has me developing an ulcer, you ask? Well, our realtor tells us we'll be "lucky" if we only lose 80K on our house. Oh yeah, we can afford that, no problem. ::gag:: Then, I'm already feeling rough around the edges because of this when 6 year old T.'s soccer coach gives him a lecture about who the coach is simply because T. trotted out on the field saying it was "J.'s turn to kick the ball." Yup, my kid unselfishly trying to make sure his buddy gets the kick in he didn't get to make before their string was pulled after the previous 4 minutes certainly deserves a talking to about who makes the decisions on the field. I strongly suspect that the coach doesn't like me a whole lot and that's reflecting on his reactions to T. (who can be a little pain in the rear, as I'm first to admit). Who's the grown-up here? And finally, because you should have a minimum of three things before your stomach acid ramps up appreciably, a friend told me today that after a PTO meeting, one of the women implied something not terribly nice about me and she (my friend--although more on that designation later) as good as said that my scrip partner was stabbing me in the back. What in the heck am I supposed to do with information like that? I know that my partner wasn't saying what she was credited with saying as she blind cc'd me on all e-mails on the topic but I called her to tell her that the controversy hadn't gone away. More stuff happened but long story short was that the original friend who told me all of this proceeded to chew me a new one for telling my partner that the friend had told me anything, saying that I'd betrayed her, etc. I pretty much spent the rest of the day crying and am fairly certain I can now call her an ex-friend. Not a very nice feeling. The more I reflect on all of it, the more I want to just go ahead, lose the 80K, and just get the heck out of Dodge. I'm pretty much done with being here. Yes, thank-you, I would like some cheese with my wine. Maybe some chocolate too.

(And mental note to self, quit volunteering for anything because the politics will kill you every time.)